For The Girl Who Has Everything
by Chaltab
Summary: A Legendverse story. Savior's first Christmas at the Tower sees the Titans celebrating their survival of Killjoy's attack. But Savior can't celebrate until he's found Raven the perfect gift. The only problem is, he's going shopping with Ambush Bug.
1. For The Girl Who Has Everything

**For The Girl Who Has Everything**

Come gather 'round and hear a lost tale, ten years secreted away in between the pages of Black and White: the story of Savior's first Christmas at Titans Tower and the difficulty he had finding a gift for a very special young woman. What's that, you say? There's no plausible way to fit the missing Christmas season between the chapters of that story? Each event flows into the next with no real room for a break in the action? Well, that may be true. The same could be said for Beauty and the Beast and that didn't stop them from making a Christmas special for it!

That Christmas special was horrible? Oh shut up and read already.

* * *

><p>Noel Collins—red hair, slim, hovering on the line between handsome and average-looking, lay on his bed, his newly appointed guest room in Titans Tower. He stared at the ceiling, listening to the distant melody that emanated from the T-Car's speakers, the sounds of jingling bells and roasting chestnuts, and an all-Thanagarian chorus of <em>Adeste Fideles.<em> It was the last Saturday before Christmas and the Titans felt they had a lot to celebrate; new friends in the form of honorary Titans: the newest Aqualad, called Zen, as well as Superboy, Wonder Girl, Kid Flash, and other heroes with less impressive pedigrees. They were the guests at the Christmas Party that Beast Boy had insisted on throwing to celebrate perhaps the greatest gift: the fact that the Titans were all alive.

Killjoy. A term acquaintances at high school had often applied to Noel himself when he refused to humor them their petty joys and mild complaints about their parents. Now it meant something else, something horrifying. And if it hadn't been for Raven's vision—her dreamscape premonition of murder—now all the Titans would be dead and Savior would once-again be homeless, teamless. Friendless. Perhaps Batman would have taken him in—replacing one surrogate son with another.

It was remarkable; Savior had idolized Batman for as long as he could remember—for standing up to power, to taking back the night from thugs and gangsters alike. For being a rich man—Savior knew he had to be rich given the equipment he used and the training he had procured—who stood in complete opposition in every way to what Maxwell Collins was. Yet Savior never truly considered the logistics of training a teenager to follow in his footsteps. That there had been more than one Robin, for instance—that the boy who now held the title, Tim Drake, was the third, after the acrobatic Nightwing and a second, meaner Robin who died at the Joker's hands. How many more might there be? What if Batman had a biological child: would the child take up that mantle, or refuse to have anything to do with the vigilantism?

Savior laughed. "That's ridiculous," he said, turning over on his side. "Batman probably doesn't even know what sex is. He'll never have a kid."

* * *

><p>At that very moment, in Istanbul.<p>

"Agh! God damn it!" shrieked a lovely woman in an unlovely position. Surrounded by doctors, red and covered in sweat; pain between her legs indescribable. She pushed once again, gritting her teeth and longing for the lesser pain of getting shot. Suddenly there was a cry, the smell of blood and else, and the pain began to subside. Talia al Ghul fell back and rested her head on the pillow.

Around them, the attending doctors gasped, whispering in hushed Arabic. _Ibn al Xu'ffasch_! Ibn al _Xu'ffasch!_ Son of the Bat.

"I've had many grandsons," Ra's al Ghul said, watching as the doctors cut the umbilical cord. "But this one—I feel he'll be special. His genetics are, if I do say so myself, impeccable. My little _Ibn al Xu_—"

"Damn it, father, we are not calling my son _Ibn al_-anything. His name's Damian Wayne. Put that on his birth certificate. Damian Mother-Lovin' Wayne."

* * *

><p>Noel couldn't stop thinking about her—about Raven. Not just because her dream had saved the Titans, but because she was so different. Her empathy seemed to affect others as much as it affected her, and she could cut through any front you put up. She was—because of her powers and her strength of will, the type of person who would never be under Maxwell Collins' thumb. His dad had tried to hook him up with other girls—some significantly older than him—as power plays and mind games. Savior had only felt contempt for those women, sometimes to the point that he wondered if he was simply a misogynist; people like that often made exceptions for their mothers. Raven was different though, and not just because of her magical powers. He had to find something to give her, something for Christmas that expressed how he felt.<p>

He rolled off his bed and left his room, heading into the hall. Before he reached the ops room where the partygoers were, he reached deep into the energy that coursed through his nervous system. There was a flash of light, and suddenly the slim red-haired boy was replaced by a more muscled version of his body, arrayed in white clothes and bearing a spiky mop of white hair on his head—his alter ego, Savior.

It was akin to a jungle in ops, not least of which because Beast Boy as a lion was wrestling with Wonder Girl, the teenage daughter of Zeus. Cyborg, meanwhile, was attempting tinsel application by repeater cannon. Robin, Superboy, and Kid Flash seemed to be hitting it off like old friends, though as far as Savior was aware they'd never met before.

He made his way through to the kitchen where Raven held a cup of eggnog and Starfire was mixing mustard into her punch.

"So," the Tamaranian began, "I have spoken a little about my own planet, but what was your world like?"

Raven sipped her eggnog as Savior approached. Somewhat unbelievably, she had a smile on her face. Raven generally hated large gatherings of people, but now she seemed happy—she even wore a Santa hat.

"Azarath is complicated," she said. "It isn't a planet, it's a city, still in the general vicinity of Earth, but on a higher plane of existence. The witch-goddess Azar founded it hundreds of years ago to combat certain supernatural threats. "

Savior squeezed by Starfire and grabbed up the pitcher of eggnog, pouring himself a glass. Raven was a magic user from a mystical city created by a witch-goddess: Savior was baffled that she didn't hate Christmas as much as he did given her decidedly non-Christian heritage. Though, Savior's disgust with Christmas had nothing to do with its origins or _raison d'être_, but with the awful, horrible acts that people were willing to commit in the name of crass consumerism. What better way to honor Christ than stomping fellow humans to death on the altar of Mammon to get a sweet deal on an Xbox?

And then there were the bad memories; Savior refused to drudge those up.

"There's not much to tell, really," Raven said. "The monks emphasize peace and tranquility, living in harmony with each other. They study all sorts of unusual magic."

"To fight your father?" Starfire ventured.

Savior saw Raven tense, and he paused. What was this about her father? Savior realized that despite his attraction to the mysterious mage, he knew very little about her past. The Titans knew more, but there were gaps; she fled Azarath with a mystical gem of power and met the Titans when the Gordanians came pursuing Starfire. The gem, the Eye of Azarath, was destroyed in the battle with Torment the previous winter, before Savior had even got his powers. The Titans must have talked then, must have exchanged information. Nobody brings that sort of power to a slum-ridden, crime-infested ass-end of Florida without good reason. Was she trying to keep it away from her father?

"It's Christmas, Starfire," said Raven, tersely. "I would prefer not to talk about that."

"My apologies," the alien sad, gulping down another sip of mustard. "I would like to know more about this Christ-Mass. Perhaps then I could get the handle on what is and is not an appropriate topic for the conversation."

As Raven began to explain Abrahamic religion to a flying orange space princess, Savior stepped away. Raven's opinion of religion wasn't something he wanted to hear about. He wasn't a believer in anything in particular himself, but he respected those who were, and suspected Raven's biting sarcasm would annoy him. He didn't want Raven to annoy him, especially not tonight. Out the window, Jump City sparkled and twinkled across the bay, red and green lights highlighting an overcast sky. It was an amazing sight given what had happened earlier that year. A whole section of the city getting nuked by magic that somehow destroyed only property and not people made national headlines. The TV beamed pictures of the devastation for weeks. Jump City was temporarily a disaster site, and Lex Luthor's final act as President had been to dump a ton of his own personal money at the same time as he dumped billions of taxpayer dollars into the surviving parts of the city, building sixty piers along the new coast and paying for Silas Stone's funeral. Savior wanted to keep away from that mess, even though Jump City was closer to the climate he was used to in LA, moreso than New York, Metropolis, or Gotham. But he figured New York would be safe, protected not just by one iconic hero but a dozen legends—the Justice Society. Somehow, that didn't stop nineteen men with box cutters. Just as Savior realized that nowhere was really safe, he was doused with chemicals and paint and turned into a metahuman.

Such is life.

He briefly waved to Cyborg and Robin before heading into the elevator and taking it up to the roof. He found a seat by the edge. His jacket and armored shirt were warm in the cool evening, though the chill bit at his ears. If he were the kind to pray, he would have prayed for snow. It was one of the many things that had made New York so much more pleasant than home. He finished the last of his eggnog and heard footsteps behind him.

"You seem tense," Beast Boy said, flopping down beside Noel. "What's up?"

"Stuff," Savior said. "I don't like Christmas, for one."

"Dude, how is that even possible?"

Noel rolled his eyes. "It's pretty simple. Christmas makes people act like bastards."

Beast Boy shook his head. "No, man. Materialism makes people act like… those things. Christmas itself was just fine without it."

"Beast Boy, you're fourteen. Nobody cares if you say bastard." He tried to take another sip of his eggnog, but then remembered it was empty, and threw the cup off the roof. It turned end-over-end down a couple stories before a perimeter defense turret belched a red laser that blasted the cup into fine red mist.

The green Titan's face displayed a sheepish grin. "Yeah, I know. Force of habit from living with Ste—um, Mento and Elastigirl. Also, you're a bad liar. There's something bothering you besides not liking Christmas."

Savior bit his lip. "Well," he said. He looked around the roof, making sure that he and Gar were truly alone. "It's Raven. I don't know what to get her for Christmas."

"You really haven't lived with any of us long enough to know what to get us for Christ—"

"Beast Boy," Savior said flatly. "Mega Monkey: Tokyo Drift. Cyborg: Steve Spurrier's autobiography in electronic format. Starfire: Three cans of _Moutarde de Meaux Pommery. _Robin: _Cobalt Chef's Cooking for Six_."

Beast Boy raised an index finger, his mouth hanging open.

"But Raven," Savior said. "I have no idea. What do you get for the girl who has everything?"

"Hah!" Beast boy fell back, clutching his gut. "Raven? The girl who has everything?"

"You're telling me she doesn't?" Savior said. "I'm not talking about money. I know first-hand money doesn't mean a thing. But she lives comfortably in this huge tower. She has a surrogate family of superheroes, a credit line to cover all her needs. Her best friend is an alien warrior princess; she's witty, intelligent, beautiful. And she has magic powers—"

"She also can't feel strong emotions or things around her start to blow up," Beast Boy said. "And—well, have you been inside her head?"

"Inside her head?" Savior arched an eyebrow. What was this about?

"She has this mirror thingy." Beast Boy mimed holding a mirror. "And it sucked me and Cyborg inside it. We got lost and met Raven's emotions in rainbow colored cloaks and then fought her father, who's this big scary red guy."

"Her father was in her head?" Savior said. What the hell?

"Not her real dad." Beast Boy rubbed his nose. "It was like, the red-cloak Raven, her anger, out of control. She was mad because Arthur Light of all people got a cheap shot on her. Anyway, I don't know much about her demon-father thing, but"

Savior rubbed his temple. This was getting him nowhere. "Okay, I get it. Raven has problems. But I still don't know what to get her for Christmas."

"Eh, get her chocolate," Beast Boy said. "Chicks love chocolate. Dudes love chocolate. You can't go wrong with chocolate."

As Beast Boy transformed into a jackrabbit and hopped over to an air vent (so that was how he'd gotten up there without Savior hearing the roof access door open), Savior began pondering. Chocolate was good, that much was undeniable. But it seemed like an incredibly impersonal gift. He had to give her something unique, something irreplaceable, something—

"GERONIMOOOOO!"

Savior recoiled from the shout even as a body of green and yellow slammed into him. Savior and the figure tumbled across the roof until their momentum was expended heating up the molecules that made up the Tower roof. The white-haired Titan pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and studied the person-projectile. It was a man—or man-like creature—covered head to toe in green spandex. The only distinguishing features were lines of yellow on his face that reminded Savior of a poor substitute luchador mask and a couple foot-long antennae protruding from the top of the head. Savior couldn't tell if they were real or just part of the costume.

"Who the eff are you supposed to be?" Savior said. "And how did you get up here past the Tower defenses?"

The green man groaned as he stood up.

"Sorry," he said. His voice, for some reason, made Savior think of the sitcom Happy Days. "The name's Ambush Bug. I teleported from across the harbor—had to drive a motorcycle off a ramp at the edge of the pier just to get in range, and the thing they don't tell you about teleportation is that momentum carries over! You think Heisenberg compensators are tough to crack? You should try building a Newtonian compensator."

Savior blinked. "I don't know what's worse: the fact that you just admitted to a class three felony or the fact that I actually understood every part of that sentence."

"Take heart, young Master Collins—"

Savior's reaction was instant. He lunged forward, a shimmer gag launching out of one hand and covering Bug's mouth and the other forming a coiling rope that tied the blabber up and ended at his throat thinned into a sharp blade.

"What did you just say?" Noel growled. "How do you know that name? Who sent you?"

"Mm Mffer!" he mumbled from behind the Shimmer gag.

"Your mother?"

"Moe, Dmm Amffer!" the Bug repeated.

Savior removed the gag. "Who?"

"The author!" he said at last with a sharp exhale, though Savior hadn't covered his nose or constricted his throat.

"The author of what?"

"The author of this fanfiction," said Ambush Bug.

Savior examined the creature. Both his hands were empty and he didn't seem to have any pockets—not to hold a printed fanfic, nor a disk or portable data drive.

Ambush Bug grinned. "You checking me out?"

"No." Savior spat. "But I don't understand what you're talking about. Who are you and how do you know the name Collins?"

"Listen, bubbeleh—" In a flash of light, Ambush bug vanished and Savior stumbled forward with the sudden loss of the mass he was leaning on. A pop behind him alerted him to Ambush Bug's reentry. He formed two blades of Shimmer energy as he whirled to face the bug.

"I know all about you. You may not believe me, but all this, Jump City, Titans Tower, even you, are fictional. I'm fictional too. And I know all about you."

"You know—"

"Your name is Noel Alexander Collins. You were born 20 July 1984, 4:18 PM. Your mother was Cystal Collins nee Davenport and your Daddy Dearest is Supreme Asshole Maxwell Domitian Collins, CEO of CollinsCorp in Laus Angle-eez!"

Savior's heart punched his sternum, repeatedly. He felt his nerve endings crying out—do something, kill this crazy freak, erase his memories, it doesn't matter what. Maxwell can't know you're here.

But his better angels prevailed for once.

"Shut up!" Noel barked. "I get it. You know me. I refuse to entertain the notion I'm fictional, though."

"Oh, hoho!" Ambush Bug said. "Well, how about this. Have you ever noticed out of the corner of your eye, or occasionally in your dreams, a little elf clad entirely in pink?"

Savior blinked. "Uh… Yeah, actually. Do you know who she is?"

"Heheh, 'she'," the Bug laughed. "Oh, I know who _she_ is. She's the avatar of your creator—Legend Maker."

"You're full of sh—"

Savior blinked. Ambush Bug was gone again. He spun around, looking for him, but found nothing. He was about to go report the incident to Robin, when he heard Ambush Bug's laugh, trilling down from a direction he couldn't place.

"Where are you? Can you turn invisible too?"

"Nope, that's not on my character sheet," the Bug said. "You can't see me because you're blind to something very important."

"And what's that?" Savior growled. "I can't see on the same wavelength as _crazy?_"

"You just need to look up here. I'm peering down at you, Savior of Earth-379, from atop the fourth wall."

The fourth _what_? Savior clenched his fist, trying to locate the voice. He rerouted the Shimmer to his brain, pushing strands of the white energy through the auditory nerves and the sensory centers of his brain. More connections, a greater ability to process and locate sound. Ambush Bug continued to blather on, and as his brain's wiring became more complex, Savior began to notice a strange flatness around him, a sense that, somehow, Jump City, the Tower, was pasted onto a membrane or plane and that one segment, one 'wall' was missing. And as he craned his neck, Ambush Bug's dangling legs came into view, bopping back and forth like a giddy child. And then Savior's mind reeled.

"Oh… oh my… ggggkd."

He trembled.

"I CAN SEE YOU!" he shrieked. "You there! Sitting in front of the computer! You, with the beard and you, blonde girl with the glasses. All of you! This is… what am I seeing? Bug, what's happening to me!"

"Enlightenment!" he said.

The Shimmer strands recoiled, leaping back to the stem of his brain and the lower nerves. Immediately the sensation was over. An unimaginable headache bloomed in Savior's cranium and he fell back onto the roof of the tower. He tried to recall what he had seen, what his mind had just tried and failed to process, but it was a blur. His enlightenment was vanishing. He felt something warm and stick on his face and lips and realized his nose had bled.

There was a patter of feet and Ambush Bug knelt beside him. "Huh, you've blocked it out already. It looks like you're not insane enough to handle the enlightenment. Well, not yet anyway!"

Noel wiped the blood from his lips.

"Why did you come here?" he said.

"Like I said, the author sent me to help you learn the true meaning of Christmas or something. I don't really know. He was kind of vague."

"So now I'm Scrooge," Noel muttered. "Alright, what Christmas are you the ghost of?"

"Hell if I know!" Ambush Bug grabbed Savior's arm. "Come on, I sense a flashback coming on. If we jump at an angle cosine to the parallax scrolling of the planar membrane, we can move from scene to scene with the greatest of ease!"

"Alright, didn't understand a word of that," Savior said. As they reached the edge of the tower, Savior wondered, briefly, if this had all been a trap or delusion and Ambush Bug was really just trying to throw him off the roof to his death. Though compared to how he felt now, death would be an upgrade.

* * *

><p>There was whiteness that was full of color and warmth that was tinged by chill, like he was careening through water. Suddenly he found himself rolling in sand. Savior moved to his feet, hacking and coughing, dripping with a thin white liquid, spitting it up, shaking it from his hair. It tasted acrid, like the way ink smells on a page.<p>

"Where are we?" he spat. "What is this—stuff?"

Ambush Bug produced a blow-dryer from nowhere apparent and aimed it at Savior. "That is what we call The Bleed, the stuff between stuff. Also known as the Hypermenstrua."

"Hyper-what!" Noel growled.

"Yeah, it's basically the menstrual blood of the multiverse. You can thank Grant Morrison for _that_ lovely metaphor. As for where we are, it's a little place called First Century Palestine."

"First Century?" Noel blinked, looking around. "What. Which first century?"

"That would be BC, kiddo." He pointed up. "Check it out."

Above Savior, in the sky, the thin sliver of the moon was dwarfed by an enormous fiery star, a star that seemed closer to Earth and fixed in place. "We wouldn't happen to be near Bethlehem would we? I mean, are you seriously taking me here?"

"Look, I have no idea where we're going. I just sense the scenes comin' and take you along for the ride. Where we end up is out of my control. But, hey, it's Christmas, right? Let's go check it out."

The two heroes walked over the rocky fields outside the village. The unusual star's light spread throughout the field. Savior trudged down, noticing in the distance a group of men surrounded by sheep, standing by a small stream. He was hoping no angels showed up: this night was weird enough already.

"So are you a superhero or something?" Savior said as they moved closer to the town. "I have never heard of you."

Ambush Bug shrugged. "Look me up on Wikipedia when you get back to the Tower."

"What the hell is a Wikipedia?"

"Oh, right," the Bug laughed. "It's not quite entered public consciousness yet. Well, just Google it when you get back to the tower, and then look me up." He paused, studied Noel for a moment. "You _do_ know what Google is, right?"

"Yes, I know what Google is," Savior barked, noticing for once how petulant he sounded. He kept silent for the rest of the journey. Numerous people—small compared to him and even the twig-like Ambush Bug—milled about, closing up stores and houses for the night. Lines of people were turned away from ins. Savior stopped dead when he noticed two young people, a couple. A woman—a teenage girl, really—on a burrow, followed by a man in a blue tunic wrapped in a white traveling cloak. Savior followed them as they made their way to a cave in one of the rocky outcroppings at the edge of town. Up above, the unusual star hovered and broiled.

"What do I do?" Savior said. "What is this supposed to teach me? That Christianity is the true religion? That I'm going to have to apologize to that Fundie with whom I argued in 9th grade about whether Jesus was actually born in Bethlehem or if it was just a legend that evolved later on?"

"Well," Ambush Bug said, "you have to remember that this is a fanfiction, so you probably shouldn't be taking it as a statement of cultural hegemony or anything."

And suddenly, there was with the star a multitude of heavenly hosts. As if every star in the galaxy suddenly doubled in brightness, highlighting the spiraling arms of the Milky Way. Off in the distance, Savior heard a thundering Aramaic voice, in the direction of the shepherds they'd passed. And there was music—not the sort of music you hear with your ears, but something cosmic and transcendent. His worries and frustrations abated, and his mind grasped something tenuous and fleeting.

"The music of the spheres," Noel quoted. "He appeared and the soul felt its worth."

Ambush Bug handed him a camera. "I think the next scene's about to come up. Might want to take a snapshot of this for posterity."

* * *

><p>Another dip in the bleed and suddenly Savior found himself rolling through a wine cellar. He bowled a person over—a man who let out a weak scream that was abruptly cut off by a loud KLUDD. At first Savior thought he'd hit Ambush Bug, but when he looked up, he saw Bug standing on the other side of the man. The man himself was a handsome black man, a snazzily-dressed bartender—perhaps for a fancy restaurant.<p>

"Where are we, Bug?" Savior reached down and extended the Shimmer into the man's brain, feeling his way through the gray matter until he reached the poor guy's concussion. A few simple repairs and the guy shouldn't even need an MRI.

Bug pulled out a small handheld and looked at the screen. "Huh, we're in Chicago. At the Hilton, no less."

"What could we possibly be doing at the Chicago Hilton?"

"I dunno, but I don't think we're in the present anymore. Look at this guy's cell phone." Ambush Bug picked up a huge bulky thing from the bartender's belt. It was the size of a brick. "Better not go out looking like that."

Savior transformed back into his Noel form and quickly changed into the Bartender's clothing. He extended a Shimmer line from his foot and into the man's ear, downloading the bartending skills and memories and quickly collecting the champagne bottle the man—whose name was Barack—had come down here to retrieve.

Noel ran back up front and delivered the bottle.

"That took long enough!" a mustached man in a gray tuxedo said. "Where's that fellow who was bartending before."

"Oh," Noel said. "Barack had to run. He's working another job over at BI."

"That's sad," the man said. "He was a nice fellow. Said he wanted to run for office someday. Say, you look awful young to be tending a bar."

"I get that a lot," Noel lied.

He moved to start taking another customer's order, and just as he poured a glass, he heard a voice that struck him with a tidal wave of emotions, a voice familiar and alien and impossible. He looked back to see a woman joining the mustached man.

"Roger! Oh my goodness," said Crystal Collins. "We keep meeting like this."

"Mom?" Noel whispered. His legs were trembling. She was younger, years younger than his last memory of her. And here, now, she was so vibrant. Her cheeks had color and her eyes were lively. Her teeth weren't yellow from years of cigarettes.

"Ah, my dear Crystal!" the man named Roger said. "Fancy that."

Noel blinked, staring at them from across the room. They acted like old friends. When he approached Crystal and asked what she wanted to drink, she looked up at him and smiled warmly. "Oh my, you're the spitting image of my father," she said. "But such a young face. It's really weird. Um, but yes. Please just get me a ginger ale. Maxwell would kill me if I drank with his little successor in the metaphoric oven."

Noel looked down for the first time and saw—how could he have missed it—the raised bump of her belly.

"Oh my god!" Roger exclaimed. "You're pregnant? Since when?"

"About two months now," she said. "Maxwell and I have been trying for years. Well, he's been trying. Not that I don't want a child of course. It's just… Max can be so domineering. I don't think he's ready to have a kid yet. He needs to let go of so much pride first."

Noel did the math. Two months meant conception in October. Plus nine months would be July. Holy crap. Holy crap.

"W—what year is it?" he said, his voice thin. He poured her ginger ale mechanically, added a pinch of cinnamon just how she liked it.

Crystal arched her eyebrow at him. "It's 1983, honey. Are you okay?"

"I may never be okay again," Noel said, stepping away from the bar and pouring himself a shot of whiskey. He started to pay for it with his Titans' debit card, but realized the absurdity quickly: the account didn't even exist yet. _Batman_ didn't even exist yet.

"Crystal," Roger said in a hushed tone that he thought Noel couldn't hear. "Are you sure this child is Maxwell's? I mean after our little rendezvous in September—"

"Roger Candide!" Crystal said harshly. "Don't be absurd."

"Well, I know," Roger said. "But you have to wonder."

"I don't have to do anything," Crystal said. "Except take care of these investors. Maxwell is counting on me. CollinsCorp is counting on me. Maxwell may be an evil genius, but this sort of negotiation needs a human touch. And I often find myself doubting if Max is even human."

"You do realize we keep meeting _because_ of our occupations, right?" Roger sighed. "I'm here to make sure that your husband's evil genius remains _Lawful _Evil. The whole international super-spy thing doesn't really lend itself to settling down and marrying. After this, I've got a bloody assignment in Japan—some dispute between rival magic ninja clans or whatnot."

"I'd rather not talk about work, Roger," she said. "But if you want to discuss pleasure, my room is 1720."

Through the Shimmer strand, Noel felt the real bartender stirring. He ran back into the cellar and pulled the uniform off. He pulled his jeans back on before Barack stirred, but stood topless when the man fully came to.

"Did you strip my clothes off?" he demanded.

"Sorry, sir. I knocked you out by accident and had to fill in for you at the bar. I didn't take anything from you, I swear."

And Noel ran off. He couldn't find Ambush Bug anywhere as he moved through the halls. He reached for his communicator, only to remember it was in his other jacket. Muttering about his weird-ass powers, he found an empty corridor and transformed into Savior. The screen of his Com was flashing with instant messages.

ABug99: Yo, man, I found a newspaper. It's 1983 in the hizzouse.

Savior: Shut the fizz-uck up and find me.

ABug99: Will do, bro.

Savior: Wait a min… how r we online? The WWW hasn't been invented yet.

ABug99: I always keep an antenna in the present just in case.

Savior: Okay, just meet me at room 1720.

Savior tossed his communicator into the air, transformed back into Noel, and caught it. He found the nearest elevator and took it up to the seventeenth floor, and followed the signs to room 20. He saw the door shut just as a gray tuxedo leg vanished through the door frame. As he approached he listened to what was going on behind the door; he heard a soda can pop open, heard it clang against a martini glass. Shaken, not stirred, he bet.

Ambush Bug popped into existence beside him. "You wanna stay and watch?"

"Do I want to stay and watch my mother commit adultery with a hillbilly James Bond? No. No, I do not."

Ambush Bug smiled, grabbed his shoulder, and shouted: "Onward, to adventure!"

_To Be Continued_

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Once again, my Christmas Fic's reach exeeded my grasp. Unless things go horribly wrong, I'll be posting part two of this story on January 6th.<em>


	2. From the Boy Who Gave it All Up

_Hey, I got this up a little earlier than I'd expected. Hope you enjoy it._

* * *

><p><em><em>**Part Two  
><strong>

**From the Boy who Gave Up Everything**

Noel had to take a shower to get the smell of the Bleed off after the next jump, so it was convenient that he in fact, appeared in a locker room. Ambush Bug waited patiently, looking around to figure out where and when they were. It turned out they were in Jump City. It was Winter, 1999, and they were at a football game—the Jump City Titans were playing the Orlando High School Outsiders for the title. The two of them moved through the stands, Bug's strange appearance not seeming to bother the fans.

"Victor Stone makes the catch!" the announcer's booming voice. "He's going—going—all. The. WAY! Touchdown, Titans!"

Another announcer, a woman, piped up. "That's made this a two-possession game. Orlando is going to have to step up their offense to close the gap."

"That's Cyborg down there," Noel breathed. "This must be before his accident."

Three quarters later, the players and fans began filing out of the stadium, heading towards cars. Noel stayed in the shadows, tailing Vic as he left the stadium. He was carrying his gear—still abnormally large, but not the gargantuan metal behemoth he'd become—to the back of a hybrid SUV. A couple—his parents, Noel guessed, the man only distantly recognizable as Silas. What a difference losing his wife and nearly his son had made on him. And, Savior supposed, opening a portal to another dimension.

When Victor opened the back of the vehicle, his mother rushed forward.

"No, Vic don't open—"

But as the door opened, a clatter of stuff fell onto the pavement, books and Christmas decorations, papers that Savior thought might have been scientific journals.

"I told you, son—"

"I'm sorry, Mom," Vic said. He began picking the things up, when something caught his eye. Noel could see, from the bush where he hid, Victor exhale sharply in the cool December air. "What's this? Ivy University?"

His father stepped up. "It's a good school, Victor. We got you a brochure and an application. You—"

"I'm not going to Ivy, Dad," Vic said. "I told you where I wanted to go."

"The University of Florida? What do they have that Ivy doesn't?"

"A division 1-A football program, Dad!" Vic said. "I'll never have a chance of seeing a recruiter at a dinky little nerd school like Ivy."

"Do you really want to play football the rest of your life, Victor? Is that really how you want to waste your best years?"

Vic threw his bag into the back of the car and whirled around to face Silas. "IT ISN'T WASTING TIME, DAD!" The teen's roar drew the attention of others leaving the stadium, getting in their parked cars.

"Victor," Silas said. "Calm down. You have a brilliant mind and you should put it to use for more than throwing and catching a damned football."

"I'll do what I want to with my life, Dad," said Victor. "It's not your decision. What if you'd gone into accounting like grandpa wanted? You would have hated it, right? Well I don't care about the mysteries of the cosmos. I wanna run Shotguns and Power-_I_s? Is that clear?"

"Honey," Vic's mom said, pushing her way in between him and Silas. "Can we please not do this? Not now, this close to Christmas?"

Savior sat back. He'd known a little about Cyborg's past, but never all this. Cyborg seemed to love Christmas so much, even despite the loss and pain he went through, first his mother dying in the accident that damaged his body and then his father dying at the hands of Torment. His lab, built around the Gordanian holoprojector, shorn into the skeletal hulk that became Titans Tower. Savior had seen a clip of the funeral on television, but he honestly didn't know if there had been anything left of Silas to bury. He knew there'd been nothing left of Victor's mother. How did Cyborg have hope and joy—let alone Christmas cheer—in the face of that? To lose Maxwell Collins would have made Savior's life happier and easier, but Silas, though overbearing, was a far cry from the monster that had sired Noel.

Noel heard creeping in behind him and turned to see Ambush Bug. The Bug leaned against the little willow, now wearing Jump City Titans boxer shorts over his costume and munching on a hotdog, bun piled high with chili and relish.

"Where did you get money for the concession stand?" Savior said, arching an eyebrow.

"Pilfered it from your wallet."

"Ack! You idiot. I just got those bills fresh from the bank. They're stamped the current year—I mean, MY current year."

Ambush Bug shrugged. "So what? People time travel constantl. Besides, nobody ever looks at the dates on money. Hey, speaking of dates, I think we're headed for a new one.

"But I haven't even figured out the significance of THIS stop yet!"

Ambush Bug pointed up; if Savior had been able to see in five dimensional-space, he would have also noticed that the finger was pointing out towards the fingers typing this sentence.

"Take that up with man at the keyboard."

Savior swore. How was he supposed to gain anything meaningful from these jumps when they happened so suddenly and in such quick succession—was Ambush Bug just toying with him, trying to drive him as crazy as he obviously was with his talk of the world being fictional and his insistence that the timing of the jumps was utterly out of his control?

Ambush Bug latched a pair of hands to his shoulders and once more the two plunged into the Bleed.

* * *

><p>This time Noel emerged into a garbage can. Struggling to breathe and, when he could, inhaling only foul, putrid air, Savior trusted the Shimmer to find the way out; it launched in the direction opposite gravity, blasted a metal trash can lid skyward. Fresh, cold air washed over him, as well as dim light. He sprung out of the metal cylinder. For once, he longed for the smell of the Bleed. He transformed into his Savior form and opened the trashcan next to his. Ambush Bug tumbled out.<p>

And did not move. An acid flask of anxiety burst in his chest, and as Savior reached into the can to pull the green-clad hero all the way out, his hand found an onyx blade jabbed into the Bug's chest. A red ichor oozed from the wound, staining the green spandex brown.

"Shit!" Savior hissed. "Ambush Bug, you had better not die on me!"

Savior reached for the blade, hoping he could staunch the blood flow with the Shimmer. But when his fingers clasped around the blade it moved, changed, morphed before his eyes. Suddenly the onyx dagger was a winged shadow, cawing like a crow. Four red eyes blazed on its forehead.

"What the hell!" Savior gasped. The shadow flew into the sky and quickly vanished, and when Savior turned his attention back to Ambush Bug, he saw the wound was bleeding freely, the viscious crimsion flowing. Soon, nothing was left but the empty, formerly-green spandex in a pool of mush.

"No," he said. "This isn't happening. This can't be happening. I'm trapped in—who knows where I am?"

_**THWACK!**_

Savior opened his eyes, found that he had an insurmountable headache, and closed his eyes again. He began massanging his scalp, and only then did he realize that he had no idea when he'd closed his eyes or injured his head. And he certainly didn't remember lying on the ground in a grimy alley, where he now found himself. He tried to focus, but the shimmering green light above him hurt his eyes. He seemed to remember something, vaguely. A female voice, raspy and confident. It said something to the effect of, _You have a lot of nerve wearing that costume._

"Good, you're awake. The Shimmer fixes concussions fast."

Savior sat up. In front of him was a young woman—a young woman again bearing the impossible face of Crystal Collins. But she was no Crystal. Her head was mostly shaved, except for the spiky white Mohawk that sprouted from its center. She was clad from neck to toe in green and black, a radiant aura hovering around her hand, the familiar symbol of the Green Lantern Corps on her chest.

"Who," Savior stammered, "are you?"

"My name's Kyra," she said. "Kyra Collins. And—this is gonna be trippy—I'm your daughter."

"I'd posit that I'm dreaming," Noel said, "But the possibility of me having a daughter and that daughter being a Green Lantern is about the furthest thing from the realm of possibility that I'd never conceive it myself."

"Mom said you'd say something like that," Kyra said.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Who is your mother?"

"Oooh, sorry, can't say that. Spoilers and all." The Green Lantern extended her ring hand and a green platform appeared, carrying the two of them up out of the alley and onto the roof of a building. Savior couldn't quite process what he was seeing: Jump City looked a bit more futuristic, to be sure. There were flying cars and stylish new skyscrapers. But what struck him the most was the layout. The entire city seemed flipped, like a mirror. Titans Island, a new, larger tower erected at its center, was visible to the West overlooking a coast that was to Savior, unmistakably Californian.

"Did… the city move?" Savior said dumbly.

"Oh, yeah," Kyra said. "That. That's a long story, pops. A long, ponderous, unfinished story. Anyway, Ambush Bug sent word that you didn't kill him, though he wasn't sure who did. You're not a suspect, and I'm not sure if it would be legal to prosecute you anyway since you're dead."

"Wait, what, I died!" Savior gasped.

"A few times, actually," Kyra said. "You're due another resurrection by May or June. Anyway, the point is, I had my ring scan Schwab's body and you definitely didn't kill him. So, sorry about kicking you in the head."

"What happened to him?"

"He was pasted by an Obsidian Reaver, a nasty bit of trouble left over from a previous world-almost-ending-catastrophe that I can't detail. The short and sweet version is that a dying demon launched a bunch of these things through time and space as his final act of cruelty. This one might have been aimed at you, or maybe me, but somehow, Ambush Bug got in the way."

"So you know him?" Savior blinked. "Is he on 'Wikipedia'?"

"Of course. Irwin Schwab is a member of the Justice League." Kyra flew off into the air, the green energy dragging Savior along behind her.

"I think I'm on Bizarro World," Savior muttered.

Kyra glanced back over her shoulder. "My ring heard that."

Noel kept trying to process and contextualize what was going on, but his brain simply refused to. It instead engendered a feeling of detachment, a dreamlike fugue that, Savior thought, might be the same sense of unreality led Ambush Bug to conclude he was a fictional character. He was in the future—at least nineteen or twenty years by the looks of the Green Lantern that now bore him aloft—and Jump City was now in California. California, where Savior had wanted to get away from to start with. The Titan pondered whether he'd ever have become a Titan if the world and history he knew began with Jump City there.

No. He wouldn't have. Way too close to home. To Maxwell.

In the distance, a dark speck against the clouds grew larger, until it was unmistakably a flying sleigh, led by a team of four reindeer. None of them had a shiny red nose, and the driver did not appear to be a jolly fat elf in red. Instead, it was an enormous burly man at the reigns, a long white beard reminding him of Gandalf the Grey. He wore fur and leather in Earth tones, and carried what appeared to be a portable, refined version of Cyborg's tinsel cannon.

"Nick, good to see you," Kyra said. "Savior, this is St. Nicholas of Myra."

"Holy shit, Santa Claus!" Noel said. "I guess I'm dreaming after all."

"Nay, kinder," St. Nicholas said. "Ye annae dreamin', nor be I Sanna Claus. That jolly fat elf is merely a fey-empowered worker of materialistic wonders for the wee ones. I be the real McCoy. Sealed I was in a cave for 1600 years by the demon Krampus, but the seal was right and justly broken when the young Titans Cyborg and Beast Boy destroyed that foul beast some years ago. Since then, Ah've been travelling the world and lendin' my hand to whoever needs one, in the name o'Christ tha' Laird."

"So you're Santa Claus," Noel said.

"Dad, don't be rude." Kyra smiled.

Savior bristled. "I'm not your dad. I won't be your dad for a very long time yet!"

"Ah, I recognize ye now, kinder!" Nicholas said. "Ye're the teenage incarnation of the cantankerous old fart that sired this young lady."

"Cantankerous?" he protested. "Old!"

Before Saint Nick could confirm Savior's age and cantankerosity, a screech pierced the sky above Jump City. Savior looked toward the cry to see a massive orange fist slam into him, driving him out of Kyra's energy field. He slammed into the side of Bank of Perez, crashing through the window and and tumbling, end over end, through cubicles. He looked around him at all the strange computers—screens whose thickness could be measured in millimeters, vending machines that took credit cards. Even a bottle of Pepsi that sat on a confused woman's desk had a completely different logo. Savior suddenly liked the idea of the future.

"Sorry, everybody!" he said. "Superhero business. Gotta run. Bill the Titans for the damage."

"You!" the confused woman said. "My angel Savior. You rescued me when I was five—but you've not aged a bit."

Savior had already darted toward the broken window when what the woman had said finally processed, and when he swung back oout Shimmer line turning him into a fleshy pendulum, landing on a big green catcher's mitt created by his future daughter, Kyra took a look at him and arched an eyebrow.

"Are you facevaulting?" She grimaced. "God, Dad, that's so 200X."

"I'm a man of my time," said Savior, grinning.

The orange hand wooshed at them again, and Savior sprung from the green energy hand with a coil of white and landed on the roof of the bank. Across the roof—which for some reason was painted white and covered in plants—stood a hunched man in a suit of orange armor.

"Nester Weames!" Kyra called, hovering up above them. "Agent Orange."

"Who?" Savior said. "What? Is he an _orange_ Lantern?"

"He's the only orange lantern," said Kyra. "The orange power is fueled by Avarice. Nester here has coveted power for years. He recently murdered the previous orange lantern Larfleez and took the ring for himself."

"Power's not on my menu today!" hissed Agent Orange, his voice manifold, as though every past user of the Orange Ring spoke through him. "I crave PRESENTS!"

"That bastard is trying to ruin Christmas," Kyra breathed. "Well, come on, past dad and Saint Nicholas, let's send this home with some lumps—and I don't mean lumps of coal."

"Sweetie, please leave the quips to us professionals," Savior said. By the time he realized he'd just called Kyra 'sweetie', he was already half way across the roof, lunging for Agent Orange with a Shimmer-boosted jump. The radiant orange Grinch threw up two shields, and when Savior changed course by launching a shimmer line to a nearby taller building, the shields transformed into figures, energy constructs of beings: an alien Savior had never encountered and…

"Is that Lex Luthor?" he gasped.

Saint Nick's sleigh swooped down, the ancient gift-giver unwrapping a massive longbow. As he pulled the string back, a magic arrow of light nocked itself. When Nick let it fly, it pierced right through the heart of the Lex Luthor construct and shattered into amber dust.

"Aye, kinder," Nick said. "During the Blackest Night yon Luthor did bear the orange ring, though only for a short while."

Savior perched on top of a digital billboard advertising "The hit Broadway Musical _The Book of Mormon_, finally coming to Jump City." His daughter, the Green Lantern, blazed around Agent Orange, her green beams and weapons clashing with Nester's orange personifications. When Saint Nick swooped in and clobbered Weames' personal shield with an enormous axe, Savior leapt down, Shimmer strands flying form his feet and pinkies and catching various points, huge bungee cords to slow his fall. And then he descended on Weames from above, his gloved fist crashing into the back of the orange lantern's head.

The man spasmed, all orange activity ceasing, and collapsed to the rooftop.

"What the Eff?" said Noel. "One punch did that?"

Kyra scanned the crumpled lantern, now looking old and frail in the dim armor. "He's dead," she said. "Brain infarction caused by an old metal fragment. No idea where it came from, but I think it's part of a bullet. Your fist must have been the proverbial camel-straw-back-thing."

"Great, now two people will die in the future because of my actions in the past-future-whatever-this is giving me a headache." Savior crumpled onto the roof by Nester's body. "All this because I just wanted to get Raven something for Christmas."

_That is not what you want,_ came a voice, buzzing in Noel's brain. He looked to the corpse of Agent Orange and saw the orange ring, hovering off his hand. _Noel Alexander Collins of Earth. Your heart burns with Avarice. You are now the ringbearer. You are Agent Orange._

The ring slipped onto Noel's finger before he could react; his daughter swore and Saint Nick made a grab for it, but when the ring latched onto his finger, all thoughts of them ceased. Desire flooded through him, all his needs and hopes subsumed by the covetous passion. Raven.

Raven. Raven. Raven. Raven. Raven.

There was a thrum of energy. Noel saw his jacket dissolve in light, saw armor like Weames' replace it. His eyes were hot, burning with envy, shining, monotone and pupiless. He could feel her, Raven, elsewhere, distant. With a flicker of his will, he was on his way, blazing across America. How long the journey took, he wasn't sure, but there, before him stood Fate Tower. His fists slammed against is door repeatedly. He forced the power of the ring into his next blow, felt a tinge of something familiar, approving. The door opened—not broke. Someone was letting him in. He moved cautiously, though his caution could only account for so much when his craving was so strong. Up through winding non-Euclidean stair cases he hovered, until he came upon a round room, furnished in gothic style and covered in books. At the center of the room, she sat, her chair hovering just off the ground back to his vision. Still, she was there. He could feel her.

"Raven," he said.

"Today, I typically answer to Doctor," she said. The chair spun 'round. The woman in the seat was unfamiliar, a blue and gold armor covering most of her body. The insecurity, the moodiness, seemed to have melted away. There was no fear in her eyes. Her hair had darkened with age, her face marked now with crow's feet and worry lines. And laugh lines. The last thing Savior expected to see on her face. She had known joy.

Savior knew he had to drink the joy from her heart, to suck it all in and own it. The ring compelled him.

"I'm sorry, Noel," she said. "None of this should have happened, except for my failure. I try to catch and destroy every Obsidian Reaver as soon as I sense them, but when I felt Ambush Bug's jump—felt you—my aim was thrown off."

"I don't care about any of that. I just need you. Covet you. I realize how I was fooling myself. My desire to get you a gift was a selfish impulse. The whole point of gifts is to make people appreciate us. You had to have a perfect gift because you had to appreciate me perfectly. But that is impossible and foolish. If you want something, what you must do is take it. Not labor in the vain hope it will be given freely."

"You're wrong about yourself," Raven said. "I know you want me to love you, to be more than just a team mate. But the ring has amplified that. Making you question if your love is real."

"Wrong," Savior said. "There is no question anymore. Only the truth: I want you for my very own and now I finally have the power to take you."

"No," Doctor Fate said sadly. "You don't."

With a gesture of her hand, dark energy surrounded the finger that bore Savior's orange ring. There was a single, sickening crack and pain, pain worse than the shimmer being cut, tore through Savior's arm. He looked down to see the bloody stump where his finger had been. Detached from Savior's brain, the ring flickered, searching.

_Raven of Azarath, your heart burns with—_

_No. You are content._ The ring's light faded and fell to the floor.

Savior had collapsed to his knees, unable to think of anything but his maimed hand, until Raven took him by the wrist and hovered his finger up to the stump. Words whispered in some ancient tongue escaped her lips, echoing in the dim room. Noel felt the sinews regrowing, felt the bone mending. The pain washed away, subsumed into the fortitude of Raven's soul.

"I'm sorry," he said, noticing that his face was wet with tears. "The ring—I don't think it was lying."

"Noel," she said, lifting him to his feet. "Love is something given or withheld. It can't be earned, bought, traded, or exchanged. No gift could change how I felt about you then, or now."

"And what is it you felt?" Noel said.

"You'll have to discover that for yourself." She turned. "While you were flying across America, Cyborg beamed me this."

A canister, transparent, hovered over, a red slime pooling inside.

"The Reavers were one final act of cruelty sent out by Trigon, my father." She handed Noel the canister. "They don't kill in the same sense that physical trauma or illness does. They're more insidious than that, reducing their victims to nothing more than their base components. Not chemically, but metaphysically. This contains all that Ambush Bug was and will be."

"Ew," Savior said.

"Definitely ew," agreed Raven.

"How do I get home? What do I do with this?"

"It's said that no vessel can contain the Bleed," Raven went on. "But if you open that canister while you're inside, the energy should restore Ambush Bug and prevent a time paradox." She stood by a table covered in artifacts and picked up a small bracelet topped with three exquisite sapphires. She latched it onto her wrist, and suddenly the metal expanded, the liquid gold flowing and expanding until it covered her entire left arm.

"What is that?"

"A tool left over by the ancients," Raven said. "Part of a set. You'll meet the guy with part one pretty soon."

She extended her hand, the blue stones sparking and glowing, as once again the world seemed to distort, flatten against its membrane. Savior refused to open his eyes, refused to look beyond his realm. Instead he just listened, breathed, and found the familiar smell. With a deep gasp of air, he plunged forward.

* * *

><p>Rolling end over end, the bleed encompassing him, it took all of Savior's focus to remember the canister. He wrenched at it, pulled, and finally dug Shimmer strands into its lid, giving it one final pry. The canister opened, the bleed rushing into the tan. Savior could see nothing, but felt the canister flare with heat, felt it inexplode in his arms, the force driving him through the aether. He slammed into something solid, felt the warmth of the liquid that covered him dissolving in December chill. He looked up to see Ambush Bug, snoring heavily, lying on the roof of Titans Tower before him. Savior dragged the deranged green man into the Tower and left him in front of the elevator. When he decided to, he could come down and join the other Titans, or teleport away.<p>

Noel deeply, sincerely, prayed for the latter.

When the elevator door opened onto ops, Savior found the party had quieted down. Beast Boy was curled up in the corner as a cat, Arrowette and Empress taking turns petting him. Starfire and Raven were nowhere to be seen, while the four scions of Justice League members sat on the couch with a frenetic game of _Super Smash Brothers Melee_ glowing on the enormous ops screen.

Savior sighed. All this—this insanity—and he was no closer to knowing what to get Raven. He was about to imbibe enough eggnog to make himself slightly inebriated and turn in for the night, when he thrust his hands into his pockets and found, in the right front pouch of his jacket, a small box. He pulled it out. It was tiny, like a ring box, and was wrapped not in decorative paper but a piece of parchment. He removed the box from the wrapping—it was indeed a ring box, though he couldn't open it, even with Shimmer assistance. A strange runic script marked the top of the box.

He examined the parchment.

_From me, to you, to my past self, a gift of Clarity. Merry Christmas, seventeen year old Savior._

Savior recognized the handwriting—a cleaner, more careful incarnation of the notes Raven often scrawled on performance evaluations. Noel studied the box momentarily, and then decided, what the hell. Future Raven would not give herself something dangerous—would she?

He made his way to her room, knocked, and then stepped away, hiding beside the door.

After a moment, it slid open.

"Hello?" The rasp of her voice was jarring after hearing her future self's smoother speech.

"I just wanted to give you this," Noel said, handing Raven the box. "Merry Christmas."

Raven seemed shocked. "Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry I don't have anything for you."

"Don't worry about it," said Noel. "Christmas gifts are one thing _quid pro quo_ doesn't apply to."

The blue cloak surrounding her, Raven removed her hood. Her violet eyes peered into Savior's pupilless blues, and for the second time in a day—shattering her old record—Raven smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>Ten Years Later<strong>

Christmas had once again come and gone—a new year dawned. Savior stared at the calendar. January, 2012. The world suppodesedly ending in eleven months, give or take. Savior doubted it. He'd seen the future a few times. Seen possible futures, at least, criss crossing and zig-zagging. They'd gone through a lot in the past. He pulled on his blue shirt, white coat—he rarely wore the red and black uniform when he was instructing the students. Those who knew of Christmas and the Terror Titans often found themselves terrified when "Professor Collins" walked in wearing that. It felt good—strangely, perversely good—to be called that. For years he'd tried to erase every hint of his legacy and birthright, denied a part of himself. Subsumed his identity into that of the angel savior.

Across the room, Kyra stirred in her crib, her tiny white shocks of hair rolling about. He was still terrified of being a dad. Beside him Raven still slept. Her magic class, conducted on the roof of the staggeringly large Titans Academy complex, waited until the moon was out and magic was at its zenith. He checked on the girl, but when she seemed to fall back asleep, he simply smiled and strode out.

In the hall, he could hear Wifi and Milagro Reyes poking and prodding Robin.

"Damian Mother-Lovin' Wayne!" Wifi said. "How did you get a middle name like that?"

"I will destroy you. It's not illegal to kill a robot yet." Damian tried to seem tough, though his face was red with embarrassment.

Milagro smiled. "My ring says it's illegal. Just because the United States doesn't have any laws about it yet doesn't mean it's out of the Guardians' jurisdiction."

"_Tt_." Damian turned from the two junior Titans and stormed down the hall, his cape billowing behind him. "I'm the son of Batman. I don't have to take this abuse from third-rate nobodies. And I'll have you know my mother saved me from a much more humiliating name. My grandfather had wanted to call me Ibn al Xuffasch."

"I'd take that over what you got," Milagro laughed.

Savior proceeded onto his classroom where he was going over the proper way to take a bullet. Melvin and Lian were the first up, Lian's usual armor supplemented by some of Cyborg's proprietary forcefields, the fundamental science behind which Silas Stone had deduced shortly before his death. After Lian had taken two slugs to the chest, Melvin stepped forward. She… did not need Cyborg's tech.

The young teen closed her eyes and shouted, a flash of light consuming her. She was suddenly clad in shining armor, a tall angular helm covering her face and sheer white wings protruding from her back: Imagiknight reborn in the form of Raven's goddaughter.

Later, on the roof of the Academy's main building, Noel found his love standing at the edge, looking out over the valley that the Academy was ensconsed into. He felt a swell of pride in what they'd accomplished since that day, nearly ten years ago, when a crazy cyborg named Richard had fought them in the slums of Jump City, and thought back to his first Christmas at the tower.

"Raven, I have a question," he said, approaching her from behind and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Christmas, my first with the Titans. I gave you that box for Christmas, but I never knew what was in it. Someone—else—gave it to me, for you."

Raven looked back at him. "That?" She waved a hand, dark energy coalescing into the form of small ring box, the same one Savior had held ten years earlier. "I don't know when you had time to go to the future and talk to Doctor Fate, but here's what's inside."

She opened the box; inside was a little orange ring, inert, he thought at first. But then, there was a little flicker of life in it, a faint orange spark.

"Agent Orange's ring," Savior whispered. He'd forgotten—all the craziness that happened since that wild trip through time clogging up his memory channels. "Why would she send you that?"

"She?" Raven said. "The future Doctor Fate is a woman?"

Savior's eyes widened. "Uh, sorry, Rae. Spoilers."

The founding Titan arched an eyebrow skeptically, but didn't press the issue. "The ring has been neutralized," she said. "All but a little of the orange light is gone from it. Just enough to intensify, slightly, the desire of your heart. I think Fate wanted me to figure out what it was I really wanted."

"And what was it?" said Noel.

Raven hovered up and pressed her grey lips to his in a slow, methodical kiss.

As they parted, she smiled. "What do you think?"


End file.
